Faith
by Lyoness of Avalon
Summary: Nel's thoughts on faith and Albel. Similar to Hope, but from Nel's POV.


Well, I started thinking about what Nel would have thought, and decided to write a sequel. It's Nel's viewpoint this time, about the same things Albel was musing on in Hope.

* * *

Faithless bastard. Here, with me, and he won't even spare a glance my way. I hate him I can't stand him. 

He's watching Fayt now, probably thinking about how stupid the boy is, or how emotionally challenged.

Another fight. I roll my eyes. Nox, on the other hand, goes into it with relish. Honestly, all that man seems to do is kill and complain. Now he's glaring at me as though it's my fault Cliff killed the beast.

He goes into the fight as though it is his lifeline. Perhaps it is. I have never thought about it. He's so distant now and I wonder if it is my fault. I shake my head. No, it's not possible. He was cold and harsh even before we fought. It cannot be my fault. Ari left him first, long before I did. It was her death that froze him over.

I doubt he can change, after living so long this way. Now that I observe him, only to see what has changed, it appears that he doesn't feel anymore. It's as though he lost his faith in life.

I laugh out loud, bitterly amused at the memory of Albel the Wicked actually having faith or hope. Now he's gone again. Maybe I've scared him off for good. Probably not. More likely he's off to kill some fuzzy creature so he can pretend to feel.

Maria is telling Sophia and me a funny story about the crew of the Diplo. Over her shoulder I see Nox slink back into camp. I am strangely pleased to see him. He looks is my direction-no, Maria's-and I see something odd in his eyes. It almost reminds me of youth, when my old friends and I would pledge faithfulness to each other.

Does he remember? I ask myself as, without much though regarding it, I spin and kill one of those annoying vipers. Then I wonder 'Why should I care?' and sprint off to check ahead. I can ignore him as well as he ignores me.

Fayt yells that it is time to settle down for the night. Thank Apris. This is getting very wearisome. I go to bed, sharing the tent with Sophia and Maria as usual. I turn over in the bedroll and try to sleep. My mind drifts to him. Aargh! Is he to haunt my dreams as well? I cannot help thinking of him though. Tonight I wonder if he remembers anything of the years preceding his father's death, or if it has all been buried in his memory.

Maria spoke to me strangely this morning. She sees me watching the Glyphian and she says he watches me too. I refuse to listen to this and tell her so. I cannot understand why he fascinates me so, although I am watching him now.

I walk past him, going to bed. As I lay here I reflect on what I have learned about him since our violent parting so long ago. There is not a long, because so much repeats itself. Other things are completely irrelevant. I realize that all he has been is a glorified murderer. Somehow I can't connect this with the boy I knew, the one who cared and promised his sister he would always be chivalrous. That boy and this man cannot be the same. Something changed, to force him to make the change. It is my fault. I know this now and I cannot deny it.

Today at a rest he sits, staring off into the distance. I have no idea how to approach him. I have no plan. I do it anyway.

I place my hands on his temples and heal him. I have to say something. "I never forgot you, after Glou's death, and I never stopped loving you. Please forgive me for what I said." I couldn't forget him. It would be like forgetting to breathe.

He put his hands over mine and said, "It is I who should beg forgiveness." I had already forgotten what he had done to make me hate him so much.

I make him look me in the eye. "Nothing you say could change the way I feel about you." I'm sure he knows what I'm talking about. I kiss him, trying to remind him of the way things were, and the way things can be in the future. He kisses me back and I understand that he never lost faith in me either.

I thought nothing could change what someone is once they grow up, not even faith. I am grateful that I did not know the depths faith can reach to. I am grateful I was wrong.

* * *

That's it. A little longer than the first one, but a little lighter too. 


End file.
